


This Worn Out Map

by ArchOfImagine



Series: A Well Loved Map [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff and Smut, Kid!Fic, M/M, Mechanic!Bucky Barnes, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Original Female Child - Freeform, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Single Dad!Bucky Barnes, travel blogger!Steve Rogers, with a tad bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-18 13:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16119305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: Steve Rogers is a travel blogger and freelance artist. He spends his days driving around the country and experiencing as much as he possibly can, before going home to Peggy… the small travel trailer that he remodeled himself a few years back.Then one day his truck starts to act up in the middle of Eastern Oregon in one of the worst towns he’s ever seen. Seriously… who names a townBurnsunironically? His mechanic says it’ll be two weeks before the proper part can be rebuilt for his truck. Hopefully he can spend that two weeksnotfalling hopelessly in love with his mechanic and the man’s way-too-smart-for-her-own-good daughter.When all you know is going, it doesn’t work to fall for a man used to staying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My second jump into the Captain America fandom equals some fluffy kid!fic :D... as the SPN fandom knows, I love me some kid!fic. Special thanks and love to the amazing moderators over at the [capbb](https://cabigbang.tumblr.com/), and of course to my artist [ero-haru](https://ero-haru-draws.tumblr.com/) whom you will see some amazing art from in the last chapter!
> 
> This will probably be updated twice a week, ending on my 'official' posting date of October 14th. Enjoy my friends!

> **Burns This Town Down…**  
>  _Monday, May 7th, 2018_
> 
>   
>  I don’t know how this happened. A week ago I was enjoying the beautiful Oregon coast, living it up, watching the waves and painting the rocks… Now I’ve literally found my way to some kind of hell?  
> 
> 
> So, my plan has been to head east into Idaho and see a friend that lives in Boise (since I’m so close, how could I not, right?), unfortunately I’ve run into some trouble. Wheezy is down for the count and I’m holed up in this tiny town in Eastern Oregon until she can get fixed. You know how in movies for extra drama it’s always like a _two week wait_ for parts? Yeah well, welcome to my current world. I mean thankfully there is an RV park within bike riding distance of the mechanic but this is absolutely ridiculous.  
> 
> 
> I might die in this town, folks. I thought New Mexico was bad until I saw Eastern Oregon. If you get swamped with like a million posts from me, you’ll know that the boredom is starting to eat my brain.
> 
> Steve, over and out.

* * *

When Steve left Central Oregon heading east for Boise it seemed like an easy enough trip. Six hours — something he could do without second thought — and he’d be settling in for a beer with an old friend. Unfortunately fate had different plans. His truck started sputtering a couple hours into the drive, and by the time he made it to a town called _Burns_ , he was doing all he could to keep her going. Unfortunately it was Sunday and judging by the state of most of the shops, he wasn’t going to be lucky to find one open on that particular day. He spotted an RV park back in the trees — and considering how many trees the rest of Oregon had, Eastern Oregon was definitely _lacking_ in that particular area — and quickly went about checking himself into a spot. 

Of course, backing in was a bit of a headache with Wheezy acting like an asshole, but he managed, and thankfully the lady in the office new a nice gentleman that owned a mechanics shop a couple blocks over. Thirty minutes to hook-up and a quick message off to Boise to let them know he wouldn’t be there that night, and suddenly Steve was left with a Sunday afternoon to kill.

He put a sketchpad and a box of pencils into his shoulder bag before locking up his trailer and grabbing his bike out of the back of Wheezy. He’d passed a city park on his way in, and it was a nice enough day to head out. The only good thing about the lack of trees throughout most of the area was the fact that his allergies seemed to be calming down for the time being. Granted, he still had his inhaler tucked in his back just in case, but he knew better than to rush himself on a bike ride.

When he got to the park, there were a few families scattered around, so he parked his bike beside a picnic table and pulled out his sketchpad. When his mind was bored, he liked to draw the movements of humans. It was harder than his normal scenery paintings that he created for a profit to fund his travels. 

He’d been sitting there for about twenty minutes, when his attention was drawn to a man standing over by the swings. The guy was well… _hot_ , his longer than usual hair pulled back in a small ponytail at the base of his head and his shirt way too small to contain the straining muscles of his chest and biceps, but it wasn’t all of that gaining Steve’s attention. Instead, it was the glint of silver that could be seen from across the park.

Steve watched closely for a moment, as the man talked with another man at the swing next to him, while they simultaneously pushed two twin boys as if on autopilot, before his pencil landed on a new sheet of paper and suddenly he was sketching out the man. He had never in his life seen anything like the silver prosthetic of the man’s left arm — and that had to be what it was, because who wore a metal glove, right? — and it honestly fascinated him beyond belief. 

Which was probably how he got so distracted, concentration going from the man to the page, and didn’t notice the small person moving to sit on the table top next to his paper. “What ya doin’?”

Steve about jumped out of his skin, heart racing a mile a minute as he looked up at the small girl sitting there watching him curiously. He bit his tongue to keep from proclaiming a sharp, _’fuck’_ , and forced a smile as he began to calm down. “Drawing,” he finally answered.

The girl looked over her shoulder to see the swings and the two men, before looking back down at the page in front of Steve. “You’re really good,” she observed, finger twisting a dark brown curl of hair. 

He looked up at her, realizing suddenly that she was the little girl that had just been sliding repetitively down the slide. “I have one of you,” he mused, holding his pencil in his mouth long enough to flip the pages in his sketchbook back to the drawing of the girl sliding, her curls flying out behind her and arms in the air, a grin as wide as the sky on her face.

The girl gasped, leaning forward into his space to see the picture better. “You got my spot!” She pointed, fingertip hovering over the mole on her right cheek.

Steve pulled the pencil from between his lips and nodded, “I did.”

“Jacob, at school, says my spot is funny looking.” She peered with wonder in her eyes at the drawing, “But you made it beautiful.”

“Impossible.” Steve began to gently remove the drawing from his sketchbook along the perforated edge. “A pencil does no justice to real life.” He smiled at her, “you were already beautiful, I just drew what mean kids like Jacob can’t see.” He held the drawing out, “Here. Take it.”

She carefully grasped onto the page, looking down at it for a long moment, before looking back up at him. “Can I have the one of my daddy, too?”

Steve frowned, before his eyes tracked back up to the man at the swings, the one who was now carefully watching them with a frown on his face. “Him?” Steve asked, and the girl nodded. Steve went back to the drawing of the man with the metal arm. “I wasn’t done—”

“I can wait.”

He fought the urge to ask her what color her father’s eyes were and _how he lost his arm_ , as he finished with the shading and linework on the picture, trying to work as quickly as possible. He could just imagine the girl’s father and his friend walking over and wanting to punch some sense into the stranger that was talking to their little one in the park. 

Another reason why he hated small towns.

“My name is Becca.” The girl said after a few moments of silence, “I’m named after my daddy’s sister. What’s your name?”

“Steve.”

“Do you live here? I never seen you before.”

“No, I’m just staying the night.”

“That’s what my daddy said when he met my ma,” Becca replied, focus on her picture.

Steve glanced up at the dads across the park, noticing a couple women sitting behind them, before looking back down at his sketch. “That your ma over there?”

“Nope. She died. Cancer gets the best of ‘em, ya know?”

Steve frowned, looking at the little girl who couldn’t be any older than like… _five,_ yet she talked like an adult. “How old are you?”

“Five-and-three-quarters.”

“You act older.”

“I know.”

“Becca!” A deep voice called from across the park, “We gotta go, supper time.”

“Hold on, daddy!”

Steve glanced up one last time, before quickly finishing the last few lines of the drawing and beginning to carefully tear it from the book as well. He passed it over with a smile. “There you go, Becca.”

“Thank you, Steve!”

“And don’t let that mean ol’ Jacob go giving you any heartache, okay? I think your spot is beautiful.” 

Becca smiled, her whole face lighting up as she stood to jump down from the table. Before she did, though, she turned back to him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a quick hug. As she ran off, she called over her shoulder, “Safe travels, Steve!”

* * *

Monday morning found Steve driving a barely functioning Wheezy the two blocks down to the shop that he had scoped out the day before. He was lucky she made it — he’d hate to pay a tow truck for that distance and he definitely couldn't push the 90s era Dodge on his own. He really needed to upgrade, but he hated loans and everytime he got his savings close enough to buy, something like a breakdown would eat into it. Usually it was Peggy, his home on wheels, that required maintenance, though.

He parked in front of the shop office that looked closed, despite the sign that said they had opened thirty minutes earlier. Steve shut his truck off and climbed out, walking to the door with a frown on his face. For kicks, he tried the knob, and to his surprise, it turned and the door pushed open. He stepped into the dark office, void of humans but housing a messy desk covered in paperwork. “Hello?” he called out, stepping over to the door on the right that had a window overlooking the garage area. He didn't get a response, so he tried that door as well (also open), and stepped a foot out. “Hello?”

In the last stall of the garage was an old 50s era Buick with the hood up and the only light on over it. From beneath the hood came a loud bang, followed by a deep, “Son of a bitch!”

Steve watched in shock as the man from the park the day before stepped around the car and into view, his right hand up and rubbing the back of his head. _Shit._ He was hotter up close… especially with grease smudged on his face and coveralls on his body. “Um…”

“We don't open ‘til eight,” the guy grumbled.

“It's eight-thirty.”

“ _Shit._ ” The man wiped his hands on a rag before brushing them back through his hair that was determined to escape from its rubberband prison. Then he moved across to a nearby wall and began flipping light switches to bathe the space in light. “So? I assume you need something? You aren't some pedophile here looking for Becs, are ya? ‘Cause punching someone before my second coffee is a hassle.”

“I was just drawing random people to kill time—” Steve tried to explain.

“I saw. Becca took your drawings to school to show ‘em off.”

“She seems like a great kid.” When Steve looked up, Becca’s father was watching him with a carefully raised eyebrow and a ‘I'm onto your bullshit’ look. Steve rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards where his truck sat. “Something is wrong with my truck. Was passing through town on my way to Idaho when it started sputtering.”

The man nodded, moving over to one of the open bays and pushing a button on the wall to raise the garage door. “Will she run to pull in here?”

“Yeah.” Steve moved past the guy and out the open door, heading over to his truck and quickly starting her up and slowly pulling her into the garage. Before he could turn the truck back off, though, she shuddered a few times and then died. Steve sighed, putting it in park and leaving the keys as he climbed back out, making sure to reach down and pop the hood release as he did. “I think she’s getting worse.”

“Sounds like it might be something with the starter or the transmission.” The other man stepped forward and raised the hood up. “You wanna gimme a couple of hours, I’ll look into it for you.”

“Okay.” He nodded, scratching at the back of his neck, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Blue eyes peered around the hood. “Bucky. Come back after lunch and I’ll let you know what I found.”

* * *

_Bucky_ had bad news when Steve walked back over that afternoon, munching on an apple and praying his trip wouldn’t be delayed by too long. As Bucky explained exactly what the issue was — a bunch of technical jargon that went in one ear and out the other — Steve held his apple in front of his mouth and tried to pretend to listen. When it seemed like the explanation was finally done, Steve asked, “How long?”

“Two weeks. I mean… I could special order ya the part and get it here in a week, but it’d be over a thousand dollars. For half the cost and an extra week, I’ve got a buddy down the road who can rebuild yours.”

It was tempting, of course, to say that he wanted it done faster. But the fact was… he really should be making an effort to save money, and considering how cheap the space rent was, what was the harm in a two week stop in the middle of fucking nowhere?

Steve took a deep breath. “Okay, two weeks.”

“You sure about that, princess?”

Steve glared up at the mechanic. “I’m _sure._ ”

“Burns ain’t much to write home about, is it?”

“No. Considering how beautiful the rest of the state is, it’s hard to imagine this part exists. How do people even end up here?”

Bucky smirked, “Their truck breaks down.”

* * *

> **It’s So Hot, I’m BURNing Up**  
>  _Thursday, May 10th, 2018_
> 
>   
>  Are these town name puns getting me anywhere? No. Do I care? Also, no. With Wheezy out of commission, I thought I would take my free time and actually put myself _into_ commission… so for the first time in almost a year, I am opening up five public commission spots. Remember that the regular rules apply and you must click the link above to submit a request.  
> 
> 
> On a side note: some of you were asking Monday if my mechanic is hot and I can confirm that yes… he is definitely heating this place up. Unfortunately the kid, the job, and the far-right town lead me to believe he probably got his straight card at 16 and never turned back. Such a shame.  
> 
> 
> There are no coffee shops in Burns, Oregon. I miss Starbucks.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> A Steve with a caffeine headache.


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday afternoon, Steve rode his bike to the local grocery store and stocked up on a few essentials (read: coffee), before dropping everything back off at his trailer and packing a snack and his sketchpad in his bag and going back to the park. Without a coffee shop or a main hub of people, he couldn’t really work on sketching random folks, so he had taken on a few commissions. Unfortunately, his trailer was stuffy in the heat (even with air conditioning) and he couldn’t focus. The park table he had sat at before, when he met Becca, was well shaded and there was a nice enough breeze to make the spot bearable. He sat down, pulling his phone out to look at a few quick reference photos for his first drawing.

“Steve!”

He looked up at the sound of his name and smiled at the sight of Becca running towards him, her hair bouncing on her head in a high ponytail. “You came back! Daddy says he’s holding your truck hostage so you can’t leave.”

_He better not be._ “He’s fixing it. Something is broke on it.”

Becca climbed onto the picnic table and sat cross legged in the space before him. “Is it true your house goes wherever you want it to?”

Steve smiled, turning to motion over his shoulder. Through the trees behind him, just slightly, the back of the RV park could be seen, where a few trailers and motorhomes were parked. His wasn’t visible, but others were. “See those trailers over there? I have one like that.”

“Wow.” The girl stared at the trailers for a few moments, before finally breaking her attention away to look at what Steve was outlining on his sketchpad. “What are those?”

He didn’t spend a lot of time around children (or adults, for that matter), but it was kind of refreshing to hear the wonder in Becca’s voice. He hadn’t gotten very far in the sketches, so he could understand her confusion. “Dragons,” he answered. “Someone asked me to draw some dragons for a book they’re writing.”

“Neat! Can I sit and watch?”

“Of course.”

Over the course of the next hour, he easily got lost in what he was doing as he sketched and gave simple explanations to his company. When he heard heavy footsteps approaching them, Steve looked up in surprise at the sight of Bucky stepping up before them, his hair in a high ponytail that matched his daughters. Becca, of course, was too engrossed in the sketchbook and pencils that Steve had let her borrow, to notice her father. She had her bottom lip pulled tight between her teeth as she concentrated, and was so adorable that at some point Steve had stopped sketching dragons and started drawing her.

“ _Becca,_ ” Bucky grumbled, sounding a bit exasperated. 

She looked up for only a moment, “Hi daddy.”

“Where is the sun, Becs?”

The pencil froze, mid line, and she looked up to finally take in her surroundings. When she noticed the sun had started to dip beneath the treeline, she looked up at her father with a world-class pout. “But, Steve was—”

“ _Becca._ ”

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

Bucky sighed, and Steve continued to curiously watch the exchange, spotting the tired look in Bucky’s eyes as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Dinner is ready, sweetheart. Time to go.”

The pout, amazingly, grew _bigger._ Her lip actually wobbled and Steve could see the beginning sheen of tears in her eyes. Holy shit, kids were wild!

“Can Steve come? We have drawings to finish!”

Bucky didn’t even glance Steve’s way. “I’m sure Steve has more important things to be doing than eating hot dogs and mac with us.”

“But, daddy, he lives in a house on wheels! What’s that you say about home cookin’? Steve don’t have a home!”

“Rebecca Beatrice Barnes—”

The tears started to fall. “Please, daddy!”

Steve watched the whole thing with wide eyes. Part of him _wanted_ to see Becca and Bucky in their home environment (the two were really fascinating together! _Uh huh, sure, keep telling yourself that, Rogers…_ ), but the other part of him knew that if he ate _hot dogs and mac_ he would be regretting it for a week. He hadn’t cut out meat from his diet because he wanted to yell at non-vegans… he really did feel healthier when he limited himself to the occasional piece of fish. And if he ate anything with milk in it, he was going to swell up like a balloon…

Bucky turned to Steve with a loud sigh. “Steve, would you like to come over for dinner?”

_I can’t._ “Sure. Of course.” _You dumb fuck._

* * *

Becca held his hand as they walked to her and her father’s house… leaving poor Bucky to push Steve’s bike with a frown on his face. Becca didn’t care, she was too interested in telling Steve all about her many collections. It turned out, the two lived in a small house on the edge of the park, opposite of where the RV park could be seen through the trees. Steve watched Bucky prop Steve’s bike up against the old wood siding before he turned to his daughter. 

“Becca, dear, remember the rule about cleanliness that your nana taught you?”

Becca’s eyes grew wide and she dropped Steve’s hand. “Oh shit,” she mumbled under her breath as she hurried ahead of them into the house.

Bucky smirked. “Well, I guess your impromptu visit is good for one thing… she’ll finally clean her damn room.”

“Your kid just swore—”

“Yes, she did, you got a problem with that?” Bucky stopped, halfway up the steps that lead to the front door, and gave Steve a hard look.

“No, of course not. I just thought…” he frowned. “I thought that was a thing they weren’t supposed to do?”

“She’s allowed to at home. She knows that it isn’t something she’s allowed to do at school, and if she were to, she would get in trouble. But I always figured if I wasn’t going to change my own habits, it was pretty pointless to try and force something on her.” Bucky shrugged, pushing the front door open. “Her first word was fuck.”

Steve had never really had a desire to be a father, but he was fairly certain if he ever became one, he’d treat his kid a lot like Bucky did. He followed silently into the small house, noticing that the place was organized with a precision skill, and sparsely decorated with only a few pictures of Becca on the walls. _Huh._

Bucky had stepped to the left into the small kitchen and dining area. “You want something to drink? I’ve got water, milk, and beer.” Bucky opened the fridge after a pause and continued, “And purple kool-aid.”

_Ohhh._ Steve felt a part of his inner child jump for joy. “Can I uh… can I have some kool-aid?”

With a laugh, Bucky pulled the pitcher out of the fridge and went to the nearby cabinets. “There are things from our childhood that we forget about how much we love them when we become stuffy adults.”

As Steve stepped into the dining room area, he accepted the glass of purple sugary liquid with a nod. He could agree on that, although the pot of macaroni and cheese sitting on the stove was not something from his childhood that he should be revisiting…

A couple minutes later, Becca came rushing back into the room and they all sat down at the table… all with matching cups of kool-aid and bowls of macaroni with hot dogs. Bucky and Becca, of course, immediately started to eat. Unfortunately, faced with his number one enemy and the dreaded outcome that would follow… Steve could do nothing more than hold his fork above the bowl and shake a little. He had an epi-pen in his bag, hanging outside on his bicycle handlebar, but it wouldn’t be enough. His milk allergy was _intense_ and would require a hospital visit. Did Burns, Oregon have a hospital? No. He had checked. They had a _clinic_ that wasn’t open 24/7.

He could hear the sound of forks hitting bowls slowing down a bit around him… _shit._ He really was starting to enjoy spending time around Bucky and Becca… and now he was about to insult them and never be allowed around again.

“Steve?”

He felt a bit hot under the collar. Was he having a panic attack? _Fuck._

“Steve!”

He blinked, looking up at Bucky, who frowned at him in concern. “Is something wrong with the food?”

“I uh…” he ducked his head and whispered, “I’m maybe allergic?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Bucky stood up in a huff, grabbing Steve’s bowl and quickly carrying it over to the sink. Steve caught a glimpse of Becca staring at her father in shock, before he ducked his head in shame. “Fucking a—, Steve! Why wouldn’t you tell me that? You self-sacrificing punk.”

Steve… _frowned._ He slowly looked up, because Bucky was looking at him, not in anger, but in concern, from across the room. _Weird._

“Are you allergic to peanuts?”

“No.”

“Fruit?”

“No.”

“Okay.” 

Steve and Becca watched in silent shock as Bucky grabbed a jar of jelly from the fridge, and a jar of peanut butter from the cupboard. When he grabbed a loaf of bread, Bucky stopped and turned back to Steve, “Gluten?” Steve silently shook his head, and continued to watch as Bucky made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

Finally, a plate was dropped down in front of him with a PB&J laying haphazardly on top of it. Steve stared at the sandwich for a long quiet moment, long after Bucky had sat back down and continued eating, before he finally picked the sandwich up and glanced up at his host. “Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky grunted in reply and continued eating.

* * *

After the disaster that was dinner, Steve kind of expected his welcome to run out after they were done eating… but instead, Becca waited patiently until everyone was done, before asking for permission to show Steve her room and collections of ‘stuff’. Bucky made sure that she had finished cleaning, before granting his approval. 

Steve was then drug down a hallway and into a bright red room filled to the brim with… trains. “Huh.”

“They’re great, right?” Becca shoved him so that he was sitting on her bed and began the slow process of showing and explaining each one to him. 

After the trains came the rocks.

After the rocks came the Star Trek figurines. 

By the time Bucky showed up in the doorway and declared it ‘bedtime’, Steve was certain that Becca was the most unconventional 5-year-old girl he had ever known (even if he hadn’t known that many). He let her convince him to read her a story before bed, and waited patiently as she changed into her pajamas in the bathroom and then brushed her teeth. When she was finally settled under the covers of her _Star Wars_ bedsheets, Steve obligingly read her chapter eight of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. 

Once he had finished, Becca gave him the sweetest sleepy smile that he had ever seen. “Goodnight, Steve.” 

Steve tried to ignore the pull in his heart as he told her goodnight and quietly left her in the room as he pulled the door shut behind him. He had to remind himself _again_ that he had never really _liked_ kids, but for some reason he felt smitten with Becca. And he had watched her drawing… her skill was pretty legit without much effort. A little bit of training and she would be well on her way to being an artist, if she wanted. He carried the book back out into the main living area, placing it on the dining room table before moving into the living room to find Bucky sitting on the sofa with his feet up on a coffee table.

Steve tried _really hard_ not to stare at the metal hand laying on Bucky’s lap. He brushed a hand along the back of his neck and motioned to the door. “I should probably get back to Peggy.”

Bucky looked up in surprise, “You have a girlfriend?”

“What? No! Peggy is my trailer. Didn’t I explain… yeah. Anyways. Thank you for dinner. I’m sorry for the whole allergy thing. Sometimes I wish I was normal and I’m rambling so I’m just going to walk away now—”

“Okay.”

Steve frowned. Human interactions really needed to be as easy as blogging. “Goodnight.” He hurriedly stepped out, biting back a loud curse as he slammed his knee onto a piece of wood sticking out on the porch and just barely grabbing the rail and keeping from falling down the small stairs down to the ground. When he looked down at his knee, he spotted blood darkening his pant leg and groaned. _Shit._ He was a hazard waiting to happen. He began limping to his bike and jumped about five feet in the air when he heard the door open behind him. He spun around, hand against his chest that was beating rapidly.

Bucky stood in the glow of the porch light and stared at Steve for a long silent moment before saying, “I have to drive to Bend tomorrow to get some supplies. Would you like to go with me?”

He looked towards the highway behind him, imagining the two hour drive one way to the larger town that would offer him, above all else… _Starbucks._ “Can I?”

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “I don’t have to be at the shop — it’s Gary’s day — so I usually drop Becca at school and then head out. If we aren’t back before she’s done, she’ll just go home with Gary’s kids.”

“I could definitely use a restock of stuff I can’t get around here. It isn’t like there are a bunch of car rental places around to get rides to go back.”

“I’ll pick you up at your trailer around eight, that work?”

“Sure.” Steve nodded. “I’m space number A-9.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Steve realized belatedly that he hadn’t really paid much attention to what kind of car Bucky drove. To be fair, the garage had a mismatched variety every time he stopped by, and the night before he hadn’t walked around to the side of the house where the driveway led off to.

So it was quite a surprise to open his trailer door on that particular morning and see a brand new Chrysler Pacifica minivan sitting out front. At first he thought someone was lost and had accidentally honked in front of the wrong trailer… until the passenger side window rolled down and Bucky leaned over the middle console to peer out at him. “You comin’?”

_Interesting._ He could already feel himself writing up his next blog post, contemplating the stereotypes revolving around minivan drivers. Carrying a tote full of reusable shopping bags, he checked to make sure his phone and wallet were in his pockets, before stepping out of the trailer and keying in the code for the door lock. When he climbed into the passenger seat of Bucky’s van, he stowed his grocery totes in the floorboard and looked over at Bucky as he buckled his seatbelt. “A minivan?”

“Minivans are one of the safest vehicles on the road.” Bucky drove slowly through the RV park, before pulling out onto the two lane highway that would take them to Bend. “Also, have you ever tried carpooling a girls little league softball team around the state? I needed extra seats and wasn’t going to waste gas money on an SUV.”

Okay… it just kept getting more and more interesting. They were silent for a while, as they got going on the road. Surprisingly, Bucky didn’t seem like much of a mainstream music fan, because instead, he had a soft jazz playing. It was relaxing, and Steve could definitely see the appeal. 

“So… you… _travel._ ”

Steve snorted, unsure if he should prepare himself for a lecture or not. Most people (read: ‘real’ adults with jobs and families and shit) looked down on him for not wanting to be tied down to one location. Those were the same kind of people who had never left the state they were born in, and had been working the same job since high school graduation. Steve had watched his mother live that life — stuck in Brooklyn from the day she was born to the day she died. She had wanted to travel, had always collected trinkets and postcards from friends all over the world, but unfortunately was always too sick and too poor to make any of her dreams happen.

Steve refused to let her dreams go wasted.

Unfortunately, explaining that to most people was impossible.

“Yes. I write a travel blog and see as much of the Americas as possible.”

“ _Americas._ Not just the United States?” 

Steve shook his head, even though Bucky was busy watching the road. “Three years ago I saw my fiftieth state and last Canadian province… so I went to Central America as celebration.”

“Wow.” Bucky grabbed a travel coffee cup and took a sip, before saying, “You drove alone, with your trailer, down to Central America?”

“I know. It was wild. I only had to fight off one group that were trying to steal my tires—” The van was quiet for a few beats, and Steve looked over to see that Bucky kept randomly glancing at him in shock, while also frowning at the road in front of him. Finally, Steve gave him a break, “it was a joke. I had a friend from Monterrey with me for all of it.” He looked back over, eyes drawn to Bucky’s metal hand. “Have you been out of the country?”

“What? Oh… yeah.” Bucky took his metal hand from the steering wheel and wiggled the fingers. “Tour and a half in Iraq before they sent me home one limb short.”

Steve couldn’t help it… he actually _snorted_ at that. When he felt Bucky giving him a _look_ , he broke out in a full laugh. “I’m sorry it’s just… you were worried about people in Mexico stealing my tires? Iraq stole your fucking arm!”

It took a moment, but finally Bucky chuckled. “Okay, okay. You’re right.”

Addressing the giant metal arm in the room (er… minivan), seemed to ease the tension between them and they spent the rest of the journey discussing different things they were into — music, books, movies, etc. — until finally the desert started to morph into more and more houses, showing they were about to arrive. 

Steve squirmed in his seat as he asked, “Can we stop at a Starbucks first?”

* * *

Bucky’s two main stops were Walmart and Costco, and a quick jaunt into Auto Zone which Steve sat in the car for. Walmart was a clusterfuck at the highest level, and Bucky complained about how Bend needed to add a second store so that one wasn’t always so busy, as he hurriedly got the necessities he’d written down on a list. Steve grabbed a few items — body wash, coffee beans — but was mostly waiting for their next stop at Costco. 

“You wanna break for lunch? There’s a Greek place over on the westside that is a bitch to get to but totally worth it.”

“Oh!” Steve’s face brightened. “I love Greek food.”

They ended up at the tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant a few minutes later, and Steve happily ordered a gyro (minus the feta) with hummus and extra pitz on the side. He carried his iced tea into the dining area to find a table while Bucky placed his own order. It was weird, because it felt _kind of_ like a date, but also there was no way that single-father-Bucky would be into guys, let alone one like Steve. 

He’d been single long enough to know that he had serious downsides that turned people off. Namely: he was a tiny asthmatic with multiple allergies who traveled constantly and never settled for anyone. He was also picky in the bedroom and hated people that automatically assumed he was going to bottom for them because of his size.

“Here.”

Steve was jolted out of his thoughts by the sudden presence of Bucky, who was setting down their trays of food. “I could have got it—”

“I know,” Bucky mumbled. “But it was done while I was still getting my drink so,” the other man shrugged.

Steve smiled, but let it go and focused on enjoying his lunch.

* * *

Steve had a strong affinity for Costco, unfortunately he didn’t really have the storage space for bulk-buying, so it seemed stupid to have a membership. That being said… he had about bounced in excitement when Bucky had announced it as one of their stops. When they were in the store, he happily pushed the large buggy while following along behind Bucky down nearly every aisle. At one point, he noticed that Bucky was all but pulling the cart, instead of just guiding it, from the end, and smirked as he put his feet up on the bottom bar the next time they slowed. Suddenly he was riding along the cart like he had when he was a kid, and he had to bite his tongue to hold back a giddy laugh. 

He pointed out multiple things for Bucky to grab as they went along, and it struck him that what they were doing was what most normal couples must do while shopping. Weird that Bucky didn’t seem to mind at all.

They paused at the spot between the fruit and baked goods, and Steve stepped off the cart to stare forlornly at the large blueberry muffins. Bucky moved up beside him. “Are you going to get some?”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t eat them fast enough before they mold. You have to buy two six-counts for the price.”

“Easily solved.” Bucky grabbed two of the nicer looking packages of muffins and put them in the cart. “Becs always wants these, but we have the same issue. So why don’t we split them?”

“Oh! Yeah. That’d be great. Hey would you also be interested in splitting one of those big containers of apples?”

* * *

Steve’s biggest pet peeve was people that wouldn’t take their shopping carts back to the cart return. So when Bucky finished loading their stuff into the van, Steve grabbed the cart and began wheeling it towards the nearest cart return. They were nearly to the edge of the parking lot, on the side of the building where traffic wasn’t as busy. As he walked passed a couple cars on the way back to Bucky’s van, he heard what sounded distinctly like someone whimpering in pain. 

“ _I told you to be quiet, lady. I just want the bag—_ ” A man growled.

“Please, I have so little—”

Steve rounded the bumper of an SUV and noticed that a man was pointing a dull pocket knife at an old woman and holding a hand out for her to give him her purse. The woman was shaking so badly it probably wasn’t registering to her that giving the man what he wanted would definitely be better than getting stabbed…

Steve took a deep breath and tried to force as much power as possible into his voice as he called out, “Hey! Let her go!”

The man jolted, but when he saw Steve, he laughed. “Back off, kid, this ain’t about you.”

Steve moved forward, grabbing onto the woman’s shaking arm and pulling her behind him. He was barely even phased by the fact that suddenly he was standing on the sharp end of a knife. “I’ll give you one chance to get the fuck out of here before I’m calling the cops—”

“Or I could stab you both and take your wallet too.”

The man lunged forward with the knife, but Steve saw the waver before the move even transpired. The guys hands were shaking — drugs, probably — which meant his balance would be off. Steve sidestepped the knife, grabbed the man’s wrist at a very specific pain point, and slammed his free hand down onto the guy’s forearm in a chop. The knife dropped, metal clattering on the pavement, and Steve took the guy’s momentary confusion as an opportunity to slam a heel down onto the top of the other man’s right foot, before bringing his knee back up and nailing the guy directly in the groin.

The would-be robber dropped like a rock, groaning as he held his crotch. 

Steve kept one eye on him, as he picked up the knife and carefully closed the blade. It was only then that he looked up to check on the older woman. At the edge of the cars, the woman stood crying, clutching her purse… and _Bucky._ Bucky wore an expression that was mostly unreadable — somewhere between worried about Steve and impressed by what he’d obviously witnessed.

“A couple people ran in to get store security and call the police,” Bucky said.

The guy on the ground moved to push himself up, but Steve easily planted a foot on the middle of his back, kicking him back onto the ground and holding him in place. “ _Don’t move,_ ” he growled. “I don’t want to touch your disgusting clothes long enough to look for more weapons, so you stay right, fucking, there.”

* * *

It took about half an hour to give their statements to the police and get cleared to leave. Once they had, they climbed back into Bucky’s van and headed for the highway, going east back to Burns now that they had finished all of their errands.

They were about twenty minutes into the ride, when Bucky finally broke, “How the fuck did you take that guy down? He was twice your size! He could have killed you, Steve.”

Steve laughed at that, because the idea of that drug addict getting any kind of bead on him was just that… laughable. “No, he couldn’t. He was doped up and could barely hold the knife straight once he moved his arm away from his body. Plus, you don’t grow up this size, decide you want to travel, and do something stupid like refuse to take a few self-defense classes.”

Bucky still seemed a bit flustered over the whole thing, but finally started to cool down. “I still can’t believe it. You’ve got no sense of self-preservation. This is just like the damn milk fiasco.”

“I just… I spent most of my youth being a scared, sickly kid. After my mom died, I swore to myself that I would live my best life without worrying about death. I had no one else, nothing to prove. I just wanted to see and experience as much as possible while I could.”

“Admirable,” Bucky said with a nod. He took a moment to speed up and pass a hauler truck, out in the middle of nowhere on the mostly dead highway, before he asked, “Where are you from? Originally?”

“Brooklyn, actually.”

“Really? Yeah, I guess I can hear a hint of the accent there. Mostly when you’re flustered though. Funny how traveling takes it away.” Bucky chuckled. “I’m from the same spot. After I got back from the war, I was having a hard time in the city, with all of the noise, so I came out to Bend to see a friend for a few weeks. One of the weekends, the friend wanted his house to himself so he could romance his girl… so I took his truck and I went on a bit of a road trip. Didn’t make it too far. Bastard didn’t tell me the thing had a shotty oil line. Broke down in Burns, fuck hole that it is, got a hotel room and then went that night to drink at one of the local watering holes.” 

“How did you meet Becca’s mom?” Steve questioned, watching closely from the passenger seat as emotions played out over Bucky’s face. It took awhile for the other man to answer, and at first Steve wondered if he had overstepped his boundaries.

Apparently not, though. Bucky just needed a moment to compose his thoughts. “She was there that night, actually. I’ve always played for both sides of the dating pool, usually skewed a bit more towards the male gender, but I obviously wasn’t going to let that happen in podunk Burns, so Kathleen and I danced and we drank, and when the place closed, she took me back to her house and we got stoned and fucked. I stayed the night, next morning she got introspective over a bowl. She told me, ‘I want a baby, Bucky Barnes.’”

“ _Blunt,_ ” Steve mused.

“Very. That was Kat though. I agreed to stick around a few weeks. I don’t even know why, but I was a lost man, and she was offering me a direction to follow. Got my stuff from my friends house and started crashing at her’s. When she showed me a positive pregnancy test, I realized that having a kid was something I had always wanted, but never expected to get — especially after seeing my life flash before my eyes so many times in Iraq. I was so terrified and excited. Just a foster kid with no family, ready to make my own.” There was a pause, and Steve watched the way Bucky visibly swallowed and the corners of his gray eyes got a little wet. “She was six months pregnant when she told me. She’d spent most of her youth with leukemia, and it had came back the year before. Doctor’s had given her five years if she stuck with the treatments, two if she didn’t want to do chemo or radiation. ‘I’m so tired of fighting, Buck.’ She just wanted a baby, a legacy, to experience a mother’s love before she let go. She gave me an out, too, right then. If I ever didn’t want to be a single dad, she gave me her brother’s address, his phone number, said he was rich and would take the kid.”

“Fuck.”

“She didn’t come home from the hospital, after Becs was born. But she got to hold her. Smiled like I never saw anyone smile before.” Bucky’s lips turned up in a small grin. “That first year with Becs… I called that number and hung up on the first ring probably a million times. I was so in over my head. I didn’t know shit about babies. But we made it. Becca’s first birthday, I finally met Kat’s brother. Turns out… she was a Stark, but she kept that shit hidden. So I wake up one morning and Tony fucking Stark is standing on my porch.”

“No _fucking_ way.” Steve knew who Tony Stark was… it was impossible to live in their world and _not_ know the billionaire. 

“Becca’s birthday present was a minivan. Fucking weirdo. Every year since, he shows up with the newest, safest model. Apparently Kat and Mr. Stark Senior had a falling out, after she quit college on a whim. He disowned her, but expected her to come crawling back for the money. She refused to ever go back there, and hadn’t talked to any of them since. But Tony had been keeping an eye on things, had known all that played out and expected my call every day. He didn’t tell his father about Becs, before the old man died, because he knew his dad would fight for custody, and Tony didn’t want another child ruined by the man’s influence. Tony had talked to Kat, near the end, though, and he knew she’d given me the out. He said anyone that didn’t take the easy out, that continued fighting no matter what, was a better parent than Tony could be. So he was there, is there, if we ever need. But promised to only make one visit a year, unless requested.”

“A _minivan_... he buys her a _minivan._ Every year?”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah… seriously. The van’s are actually in her name, somehow.”

“That man is ridiculous.”

“He is. You should see him in person. But in his heart he knows that the kid’s safety is the most important part. I mean… technically he pays for her health insurance, too. Pays it off before I ever have the chance to make a payment. He’s generous, but doesn’t like people drawing attention to it. So when stuff like that happens… when I get behind a payment on something like the power bill, and the next month I have an overpaid balance… I just let it go. It’s Tony’s secret way of helping out. Even if I don’t know how the fuck he’s monitoring all of my shit.”

“Only slightly worrisome,” Steve commented.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Even when stuff is already written and I'm on a schedule, I forget to do the thing. I will blame the 4yo that spent the weekend over here and took all my time.

> **There Goes My Heart. Damn it.**   
>  _Friday, May 11th, 2018_
> 
> So this post is a bit later than they normally are, but I’ve had a long and eventful day and I want to get things down on (virtual) paper before I forget. I spent most of the day on a small road trip to the nearest big town with hot!mechanic. He offered to let me ride along so I could grab some groceries (and coffee! woo!) and essentials. 
> 
> The thing is… you don’t spend four hours in a car with someone without some deep meaningful conversations. So we chatted _a lot_ , and I learned… _a lot._
> 
> But most importantly? This beautiful gem: “I’ve always swung both ways, but leaned more towards men.” 
> 
> AHHHHHHHHHHHH. GUYS. GUYS. HE’S BI. Hot!Mechanic is BISEXUAL. This is _not_ a drill.
> 
> I was freaking out a little (lot), but also playing it cool because it was a really important conversation.
> 
> How am I going to sleep with all of these thoughts of hot!mechanic running through my head? *sigh*
> 
> A very distracted Steve.

* * *

> **In Which Steve’s Life is a MESS**   
>  _Sunday, May 13th, 2018_
> 
> Apparently hot!mechanic didn’t get enough of me on Friday, because he texted (ah, did I mention I gave him my number? For reasons. Obvs.) yesterday morning and asked if I wanted to go with him and his daughter to a nearby lake. Now, you guys know that Steve!skin burns in a flash, but I would rather bath in sunscreen than pass up a chance like that. So we literally spent the entire day (picnics! swimming! fishing!) out at the lake, then came back and had dinner at this little hole-in-the-wall cafe that I probably would have never tried because I have trust issues, but ended up loving.
> 
> I’m so screwed, you guys. And not the good kind. What happens if I fall for this guy and his kid? I leave in a _week._
> 
> Steve and his infinite first world problems. 

* * *

> **This is Steve… Fill-In Dad**   
>  _Monday, May 14th, 2018_
> 
> Hot!Mechanic had a busy day at work today and asked if I would borrow his (get this:) minivan to pick up his kiddo from school and then hang out with her until he got home. Apparently she usually goes to a neighbor’s house during such occasions, but had _requested_ that hot!mechanic ask me first. 
> 
> So this gay Brooklyn boy who has never had dreams of being a father in his entire life, spent most of the afternoon playing dad. _It was amazing._ I know that all kids aren’t this cool, but this particular one is a kind of amazing that has to be seen to be believed. For one thing, she can draw better than most of the kids I went to college with, she also has eclectic opinions on what kind of things are worthy of her time and ‘collections’. Remember those Star Trek: TNG action figures? Yeah, this kid has a whole bucket full.
> 
> How bad of a sign is it that I kind of like her just as much as I like her dad? They’re a package deal, right?
> 
> Fuck. Still screwed over here in Burns, y’all.
> 
> Steve. 

* * *

**Steve** @wheezysteve ᐧ 2h  
I have got to stop blogging about hot!mechanic.

**Steve** @wheezysteve ᐧ 2h  
But also I think I might be in love with this guy. I’ve never been in love. Is that what this is? He’s so amazing. I feel like I’m 12 with my first crush.

**Nat** @yourgflovesme ᐧ 4h  
 _Replying to @wheezysteve_  
Ask him over for dinner. Let him meet Peggy. If he can’t handle the women in your life, he’s just a pretty face.

**Steve** @wheezysteve ᐧ 5h  
 _Replying to @yourgflovesme_  
Oh shit. That’s a good idea. Oh shit. I need to clean!

* * *

Taking his best friend’s advice and inviting Bucky over for dinner was probably a _really_ bad idea. He wanted to spend more time with the man, yes, but it was Wednesday and his car was supposed to be ready in two days.

He was just asking for problems, but he sent the text message anyway. When Bucky said yes, his heart skipped a beat. Steve spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning, and then road his bike up the road to the grocery store and bought a couple of steaks that could easily be made on his small Foreman grill. 

Bucky’s van parked outside of his trailer just before six, and Steve — having seen him pull up — hollered out the screen door for Bucky to come on inside. He was standing in front of the stove, which currently had a cover over the burners so that his small grill would sit properly on top. Both steaks were already going, and some microwave mashed potatoes were mixed up and waiting for him to hit the ‘start’ button. When Bucky stepped inside, making sure to pull the screen door shut behind him, Steve looked over and felt something inside of him flutter happily. 

His trailer — twenty-five feet nose to tail and roughly nine feet tall on the exterior — did not leave a lot of head room for someone like a six foot tall Bucky. Plus those broad shoulders made the place look even smaller than it was. Steve was pretty adamant about keeping an open floor plan to minimize clutter in the small space… but add in one Bucky Barnes and suddenly his efforts were for not. 

Why did that turn him on?

“This is the place, huh? I left my boots outside. You seem like the shoes-by-the-door type.” Bucky glanced around (it was easy to see the entirety of the trailer from where he stood), before moving over and taking a seat on the couch, just to the right of where Steve stood. “It’s nice, I like it. Suits you.”

“Thanks. When I first bought it, it was a mess. I gutted the place and did most of the interior redesign with my friend Sam, who is a carpenter.” Steve pointed out the computer area across from where Bucky sat. “That was the biggest thing, for me. I can’t really work from the road if I don’t have an office space, you know?”

Bucky smiled, looking up at Steve with crinkles around his eyes. “Living the dream.”

* * *

They ate side by side on the sofa, because it was a little too hot and muggy out to justify eating outside. Steve had even gone so far as to pull the door closed and turn the a/c on before their food finished. Since he didn’t have a television — they took up too much space — he usually watched movies on his computer screen, so he pulled up a comedy and left it playing as background noise, while they ate.

It was hard to be interested in tv when Bucky was discussing how his day had gone, talking about the various vehicles he’d worked on, and how excited Becca had been when she found out she could have a sleepover at her best friend’s house.

When they were done with the meal, Bucky took Steve’s plate and stood, quickly turning on the water at the sink and cleaning the dishes, instead of just leaving them. While he did, Steve moved over to his computer and found another movie to watch — something a bit more dramatic, less funny. When he turned back around, Bucky was sitting back in his spot, and grinned, patting the cushion next to him. 

It was so… _unspoken._ Which seemed weird yet oddly charming. They hadn’t really started whatever they were doing with the intention of being anything more than acquaintances. And yes, Steve, could definitely get behind something _more_ happening, but he expected Bucky to be the type that wanted an outright say in what that ‘something’ was. 

Apparently, Bucky was just the type that liked snuggling while watching Bourne films.

The movie was half over when a finger tip landed on his chin and gently turned Steve’s face to look up at the man beside him. “Hi,” he whispered, feeling a bit nervous.

Bucky grinned, slow and easy, his eyes tracking all along Steve’s face. “I want to kiss you,” Bucky whispered. And then he did.

_Holy shit._

Steve lost a bit of focus after that point. All he knew was one kiss lead to two, and then they were full on making out there on the sofa.

It was amazing. 

Unfortunately, as Bucky’s warm-to-the-touch metal hand skimmed along under Steve’s shirt, he hit a particularly ticklish spot (completely by accident) and in his surprise, Steve full-body flailed and suddenly landed on the floor. RV couches were _not_ big enough for make-out sessions between two humans… even if one was on the smaller side.

He looked up at Bucky’s startled face and laughed. “Why are we doing this on a couch when there is literally a bed _right there._ ”

“Oh.” Bucky looked from Steve to the bed and then back, expression turning a bit mischievous. “There is a bed. I like beds.”

Steve laughed again, as he pulled himself up off of the floor. “You know what makes beds _better_? Nudity.”

“You have the _best_ ideas.”

Steve had lived in the trailer long enough that he knew getting undressed in it was mostly an artform. Which is exactly why he could strip out of his clothes with barely any movements at all.

Bucky Barnes knew no such thing. In the course of his attempts at getting naked, he knocked no less than five things onto the floor, and slammed his elbow _twice_ into the same section of wall. “I’m going to have a fucking bruise.”

“I will kiss it better,” Steve replied, grasping both of Bucky’s hands and pulling him forward towards the bed, as Steve dropped back onto it. He drew a reverent hand down Bucky’s torso… wanting so badly to memorize every line and scar so that later he could put it down on paper.

Bucky seemed just as mesmerized, as his hand brushed along Steve’s side, and his lips found Steve’s jawline. “You’re a dream,” he whispered.

They went slow. Kisses and touches, working each other up until finally Steve opened the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a bottle of lube. Bucky grinned, slicking both of their cocks and plastering his body along the length of Steve’s as he slowly stroked both of them together.

Steve lost his words, right about that point. Becoming a mess of gasps and mumbles and pleas. When he came, Bucky swallowed his scream with another kiss.

* * *

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispered, a few hours later. They were still in bed, dozing off and on between more make-out sessions. Steve turned his head, feeling a bit past lethargic thanks to all of the orgasms he’d had that night. He made a grunting sound that was hopefully questioning enough to make Bucky explain. Bucky raised his metal arm and pointed a finger at the ceiling. “That is amazing.”

_Oh!_ Steve rolled a bit, head nestling against Bucky’s shoulder so that he could look up at his ceiling. There, painted in glow-in-the-dark paint, was the outline of a map, showing all the places he’d traveled to. He kept the paint in his storage bin, always ready to add a new spot after he visited. “Yeah.”

“It’s like a star map, except it’s places you’ve been.”

“I like to look at it before I fall asleep. It reminds me of the road I’ve taken to get this far.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Steve smiled. “My mom always talked about traveling and seeing as many places as possible… but she got sick before she could. Once she was gone, I had nothing left in New York, but enough money from her life insurance to make this dream a reality.”

“I want—” Steve could practically _hear_ the frown in Bucky’s voice. “I want Becs to live a life like that. I don’t want her to grow up like some of the people in this town… only knowing what’s right in front of them, too afraid to fly.”

“I’ve met a lot of families along the way. You’d be surprised how many people homeschool their children and travel full-time. One family had like four kids… it was insane.”

“She would love it… but I think she’d have a hard time getting used to it. Leaving the only thing she’s ever known. It’s scary. I can remember how it felt, getting on that plane the first time and leaving Brooklyn. I was such a dumb kid.”

“Weren’t we all.”

Bucky rolled them, laying Steve back out on his back and hovering over him once more. He leaned down for a deep kiss, and then smiled. “You really are living the dream, kid.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting chap 5 today, 6 and 7 will be up tomorrow, along with the art and a few extra goodies like images of what Peggy looks like :D

> Steven Rogers  
> 2409 Caravan Way, Box 29  
> Billings, MT, 59101  
> sgrogers@wheezysteve.com
> 
> Mr. Rogers,
> 
> It is with great pleasure that I write you now to inform you about an upcoming expose that our magazine will be putting together. We here at _Travel Times_ have seriously enjoyed all of your previous contributions, and upon looking into a summer series, decided that you would be a great fit for what we are looking for.
> 
> As you know, Mr. Rogers, our readers are entranced not only by the ‘RV’ lifestyle, but also by the idea of so easily cutting ties to the secular world and focusing on a year-round travel environment. We want to highlight that, following along in your day to day world, while also focusing on a few key destinations around the United States. Since you’re currently on the west coast, we would love to start the first article with a focus on the redwood forest and on into Yosemite National Park. We’d like to keep with your current blogging style, focusing more on a travel diary aspect instead of a straightforward article. Our editors believe that this will really help travelers to understand what they’ll be seeing — not just the good side, but some of the struggles as well. Each article will obviously include a collage of various photos from your travels.
> 
> I’ve laid out a detailed offer sheet below, but at this point our company is more than happy to negotiate with you. I hope to hear from you at your earliest convenience to go over the rest of the details.
> 
> We look forward to working with you soon!
> 
> Stanton Smith  
> Senior Editor  
>  _Travel Times_

* * *

The universe hated Steve Rogers.

That was the only rational explanation for the email that he was currently staring at. He had woken up early, when Bucky placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and said he had to go home and shower before work. Steve had been cognizant enough to say goodbye, but then couldn’t fall asleep in favor of thinking about everything that had happened the night before and how he was feeling. Eventually he climbed out of bed, made a pot of coffee, and sat down at his computer to check his emails.

Which is why he sat staring at Stanton Smith’s email and offer letter with a weird feeling curling through his body. He couldn’t say no to it… there was no justifiable reason to turn down an opportunity like the one he was staring at. It would not only cover his bills for the next few months, but would also get his name out and draw more attention to him for future articles and representation.

He looked down at his right, where a sticky note sat with the weekly and monthly site prices for the RV Park where he was currently staying. He’d talked to the manager the day before, discussing her availability if he did decide to extend his time in the podunk town.

Bucky and Becca were worth it, yes, but not with a dream job offer on the table.

* * *

**Steve** @wheezysteve ᐧ 2m  
There goes my heart. A little bit broken on the floor. Just when you think you’ve found a good thing, a dream job falls in your lap and you gotta go. Wanderer on the loose.

**Steve** @wheezysteve ᐧ 2m  
Never gonna settle, but god I was close. So close to putting off tomorrow.

* * *

His truck was completed bright and early Friday morning. Steve road his bike down to the shop and when he saw Bucky sitting on Wheezy’s tailgate, he frowned. He had maybe spent all of Thursday avoiding his phone. Because he was a fucking coward.

Bucky didn’t seem to care, because he was smiling when Steve came into view. “Hey! I’ve got the day off. I was thinking we should pick Becs up early from school and go back up to the lake for the afternoon. I got a tent… we could even campout up there.”

He did _not_ want to have the following conversation in the parking lot of Bucky’s work. But if he didn’t find his nerve at that very moment, he would give in, ignore everything he’d worked so tirelessly for, and then where would he be?

“I’ve actually got the trailer all packed up and ready. Figured once I got Wheezy back, I’d hook up and hopefully be heading out by noon or so.”

Bucky’s face changed immediately, the smile dropping away as he climbed off of the truck. He bit his bottom lip, fists flexing and unflexing a few times before he finally met Steve’s gaze again. “That’s it then? I was hoping you’d at least stay through the weekend…”

“I got a job offer. I need to be in California as soon as possible.” Steve looked at his shoes. “I’m sorry, Buck. I don’t wanna go, but—”

“You could stay. Just a little longer. For me. For Becca.” Bucky’s voice broke a bit. “Just give me a little more time, Steve.”

He felt so torn, like he was letting down everyone no matter what decision he made. His heart was in one place, but his soul was in a completely different spot. If he stayed, if he gave in just for the weekend, it would turn into a week… then a month… then he’d be putting a ‘for sale’ sign on Peggy and turning in job applications at the local Safeway because Burns — fucking — Oregon definitely didn’t need any five-foot-four gay artists.

If he left, he’d be walking away from something that he _knew_ could be good. They had already cultivated a seedling and it would blossom with just a little love and shelter.

“I gotta go, Buck. I’m sorry. I just gotta…”

“Wanderin’ man… always chasing the stars. I get it. A million Bucky Barnes couldn’t hold back a wanderlust Steve Rogers if they tried.”

Steve bit back his emotions. “A different me would stay.”

“Ain’t gonna matter. I fell for this you.” Bucky moved over, grabbing Steve’s bike and easily loading it into the back of Wheezy, before closing the tailgate. He stood there for a moment, still and silent as he looked over the bed of the truck, before he turned back around to face Steve. Two solid hands, one flesh and bone, one made of metal, gripped Steve’s small shoulders, and then Bucky was leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on Steve’s lips. It was so very brief, followed by the gentle skimming of lips against his temple. Then the taller man was pulling back and motioning over his shoulder. “I gotta get to work. Drive safe, Steve.”

Steve watched him go, and wasn’t surprised at all to see Bucky reach out and slam his fist against the button to close the bay doors. _Fuck_ but Steve hurt all over. Shaking his head, shaking away tears, he moved to Wheezy’s cab and climbed in.

He could leave.

_He could._

* * *

> **Goodbye. Light’s out. Burn it down.**   
>  _Saturday, May 19th, 2018_
> 
> I just arrived in Redding, California. Despite a very large part of myself telling me to stay back in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere-Oregon. I apologize in advance, because this blog post is going to be a lot different from the ones I normally write. I like to keep everyone informed of my travels while also keeping a jovial attitude even during the worst of times. And tonight? Tonight I’m not feeling it. I left a part of myself in that town, a part that I never thought I’d give away, and after a six hour drive filled with the saddest music in my collection and quite a few tear-blurred lines on the road, I’m a mess.
> 
> So I’m going to get this out, I’m going to give myself this closure, and then I’m going to fucking move on like I was born to do.
> 
> Dear BB,
> 
> If you haven’t already figured it out by now, it should be obvious that I’m a coward. What other excuse is there for writing you like this? On this page that you will probably never see. I just… it’s been half a fucking day and I miss you. I don’t understand how I could fall for someone so easily, how you were able to make me feel like no one in this world ever has. I’ve loved _one person_ my entire life. ONE. My mother. When she was gone, I had a hard time imagining ever opening up to someone, risking watching them be torn away from me.
> 
> How ironic, right? I couldn’t see myself being okay with someone being taken from me, but I was more than willing to walk away from you. Most of my life I’ve battled asthma… driving away from you took my breath faster than any attack I’ve ever had.
> 
> Where do we go from here, though? I can’t look back. If I looked back on every decision I’ve ever made, I would still be in a flat in Brooklyn wondering what I could do if I followed my dreams. This is how I move on, B. I push forward, tires to pavement, going like I always have.
> 
> My biggest regret is not getting to say goodbye to the little one. You’ve raised an amazing daughter, B, and I want you to always remember that above all else. I never knew my dad — he walked out on my mom when she was five months pregnant. For you to have such a similar story, but step up instead of walking away… it shows me the type of man you really are. 
> 
> I wish you were here. Sitting with me, surrounded by all of these beautiful scenes. Making jokes about animals that make me laugh and make the little one snort.
> 
> With you, just for a moment, I was a part of a real family.
> 
> I love you.
> 
> Steve.

* * *

> **Goodbye Cali, Hello Austin**   
>  _Sunday, June 17th, 2018_
> 
> After spending nearly a month visiting the various locations around California that are going to be highlighted in this month’s _Travel Times_ magazine, Peggy and I are off and running on the road towards Texas. Next month’s feature will be on Austin, because apparently the magazine wants to know how good I am at holding down my beer, while I visit a bunch of local breweries. I’ve been to Austin before and absolutely loved it, so I’m really looking forward to a chance to get to spend some extra time there.
> 
> Also, I wanted to address something. I’ve gotten a lot of messages from people about my post a month ago. I know a lot of you are concerned about how I left things with B, and want to know whether I’ve spoken to him or if I’m doing okay emotionally. I have not spoken to him — I’ve thought about it a million times, but know that it’s probably better for me to avoid that for now, until I’m a little better healed and more accepting of my decision. Part of me, even though I know now that I made the right choice, still wants to drive straight back to him as quickly as possible.
> 
> I can’t do that. I _will_ keep pressing forward. He will always be in my heart and I will carry him with me like a precious stone that I rescued from the ocean waves.
> 
> To answer the other question… yes, I am doing okay. It hasn’t been easy, I’ve spent a lot of time seeing different spots that, for the first time in my life, I wish I could show to someone else. So I’ve started a journal of different locations and images that I would have wanted him to see… maybe someday I’ll get up the nerve to mail it to him.
> 
> But the blog is going to move forward, just like I am. So for now, I’d like to keep questions about the whole thing to a minimum. Let’s talk Austin. Where is your favorite place to visit? What do I need to see first?
> 
> Steve, all in one piece (mostly).


	6. Chapter 6

Becca took Steve’s leaving just about as hard as Bucky did. It was right about the time when he watched his daughter crying over the guy for the fourth or fifth night, that Bucky realized his feelings hadn’t been fake or rushed. Becca, for all of the aspects of her personality that distinctly reflected her mother, loved just like he did… _hard and fast._

So he started to formulate a plan. 

“I like this one.”

Bucky looked up from where he was going through his closet, doing a massive downsizing of things that he didn’t need, and glanced at the tablet that Becca held. A week before, he had explained to her how to read a floor plan, and she had taken that knowledge and ran with it. Now, instead of studying puzzles or playing games on her tablet, she was constantly looking at more and more floor plan ideas. “I like that.” He pointed to the right side of the image, “it has a second bathroom.”

“Right,” she nodded. “And we could totally ditch one of these couches for a desk.”

“Save it. Have you finished with your closet?”

Becca bit her bottom lip as she saved the webpage she was looking at; once she had, she looked back up at her father. “I did. I also separated which collections were going into storage. Can I do my books next?”

“Go for it, sweetheart.”

She grinned and quickly skipped off back to her room. Bucky looked back at his closet. He had stripped it down to the bare minimum — things he actually wore, not just shit he was holding onto for ‘special’ occasions. They were set to tackle the kitchen last, because there were still a ton of dishes and cookware from when Kat was alive. 

Before he could start bagging up the clothes to be donated, his phone rang from the bedside table. Bucky grinned, hurrying over to grab the device and connect the call. “Hello?”

“I heard you need a favor.”

Anyone else would find it creepy how closely Tony Stark monitored his life… Bucky was used to it. “Becs would like to request an early Christmas present… and maybe an early birthday present as well.”

“Don’t tell me she’s starting to get used to the life of luxury,” Tony replied.

“There ain’t no luxury in Burns, Oregon.”

“What do you need, Buckaroo?”

“We’re taking this show on the road. Unfortunately we’re going to need a place to sleep when we do. And a minivan ain’t going to do us much good, hauling a rig that size, so we were hoping to trade it out for the world’s safest truck.”

“You could always tow the van behind one of those fancy driving homes—”

“We looked into that. Becs wants her own room. None of those have two bedrooms.”

Tony made a noise that signalled his agreement. “I suppose she would appreciate her own space as she gets older. What are the specs you need?”

“I can send you some ideas that we’ve come up with. I think we’d prefer one with Becca’s room in the front. And she wants a space where she can draw and collect things, so it might need to be modified a bit.”

“Alright. Give me a few days.”

* * *

Bucky had given himself a six week deadline to get everything out of the house, the house sold, and to be on the road to Steve. He knew, thanks to Steve’s public-as-fuck blog, that Steve would be in Austin, Texas for another two weeks after that date, so if they were going to meet him there, everything had to go flawlessly.

Thankfully… he was friends with Tony Stark, billionaire playboy who loved pleasing his only niece. Tony ordered a brand new fifth-wheel trailer for them, as well as a truck with enough towing capabilities to haul it, and let Bucky and Becca make all the decisions on how the trailer would be modified. The only caveat being that with the modifications, the trailer would have to be delivered directly to Austin, to meet the deadline. 

The question _’how will we get our stuff there?’_ was met with Tony simply saying _’I’ll send my plane.’_ Which… yeah, okay, was maybe a solution.

The house sold quicker than Bucky would have imagined — he had expected it to be the one hold up — but since he had made Tony promise not to buy the thing, he knew that particular detail was really just luck being on their side. After the paperwork was finished, two trucks showed up in the driveway… one to take their less needed (but still important) items to a storage unit in Tony’s building in New York, and another to take the important stuff to the nearby airport where Tony’s plane waited. The van had been sold. Bucky’s job had found a replacement. And all of their friends had been given a number to contact them in the future, and then swiftly told goodbye.

Tony was waiting for them on the plane, swooping Becca into a big hug and then quickly showing her around the interior of the jet, while their things were loaded in the haul below. Bucky found a seat and stared out the window at the small town that had been home for five years. What the fuck was he doing? He had the money from the house selling in a bank account, but that was _it._ He didn’t have a back-up plan. He didn’t have a skill like Steve did, that allowed for fulltime travel. Instead he had a five year old that would need to be fed, clothed, and schooled once fall hit. And he was chasing some guy that he had known for a _week_ and thought he was in love with?

A solid hand landed on his shoulder, and Tony sat down in the seat next to his. “Alright, buddy, take some deep breaths for me, okay? In… and out.” Bucky tried to follow the pattern that Stark was offering, but still felt a bit light-headed and out of his mind. “Panic attacks aren’t fun, eh?”

Bucky shook his head, “N-no.”

“Did you just realize what all is happening here?”

“Yup.”

“Second thoughts?”

He considered that, but then gave another quick shake of his head. “No. Just… fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of rejection. Fear of fucking up and ending up with nothing… being unable to support Becs.”

“Listen… you two, you are the only family I have. So if this goes south, or hell, if you just need a break from it, you’ll always have a place to stay in New York, okay? I had an apartment built five years ago for you two, I’m sure it would love to be used one day.”

“Tony—” Bucky turned to him with a frown on his face, but Tony cut him off.

“No. Don’t give me that ‘it’s too much’ look. Do you realize how much I inherited when my parents died? Half of that was Kat’s, not mine. It’s been sitting in an account with Becca’s name on it, since Kat died. I make enough from my own companies that I barely even touched my portion, after the initial draw. So all of that money sits there, for no good reason. This is Becca’s dream, as much as it is yours. So the money for the trailer and the truck… those were from Kat, to you and Becca, so that you can have the life you deserve. And when hard times hit, all it takes is a phone call and Kat will be there to help out again. Got it?”

He wiped a sleeve against his face and tried to pretend he wasn’t crying. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Now Buck-up… we’ve got shit to do. Becca challenged me to a game of poker and I need to know her tells before I step into that battlefield—”

“If you for a minute think I would choose you over my daughter, you’re sadly mistaken.”

* * *

“How big of a purse does it take to hold fifty thousand dollars?”

Bucky laughed, carrying Becca off of the plane. “You should apologize to Uncle Tony for swindling him. Did you see his pout?”

“He should know better than to accuse girls of not knowing cards!”

“Very true.” He paused at the base of the stairs, noticing not only the dark colored SUV waiting on the tarmac, but also the helicopter with ‘Stark Industries’ written on the side. He turned back to Tony, who was following them down the stairs, and frowned. “What’s with the chopper?”

“Ah yes. Well… Becca and I are going to take that sturdy SUV and meet Miss Pepper at my lake house a few minutes from here. You, though, have a man to win over, and I figured you’d want to do that sooner, rather than later, so the helicopter will deliver you to the park where he is staying.”

No. No way. He couldn’t… “Tony, I can’t take a helicopter to do this, why couldn’t you call two cars?”

“Oh, I know. Bummer. Apparently the cars were all sold out, and as grand gestures go, a helicopter seemed more appropriate than a blimp.” Tony held his hands out to Becca, who happily went into his arms. “Tell papa to go win his guy, Becs.”

“Go get him, Daddy! Go tell Steve how much we love him too!”

* * *

Yes it was obnoxious, yes it was overkill, but as far as grand gestures went… it was definitely one of the grandest. Bucky let the helicopter fly him to a small rv park on the outskirts of the city, towards the west side, near the lake. Thankfully (really, how far ahead had Tony planned?) there was a plot of land nearby large enough for them to land on. As the chopper touched down, he glanced out the window and noticed a few people were stepping out of their trailers and RVs to see what was going on. It took no time at all to spot Peggy and Wheezy, near the back of the park, overlooking a grove of trees. 

As he climbed out of the helicopter, ducking the still spinning blades, he gave the pilot a thumbs up and began walking towards the park. It was about the moment when the helicopter left the ground again, that he could just barely make out Steve opening his trailer door and looking out.

There was a short four foot fence lining the park — Bucky grabbed it easily with his metal arm and hoisted his body over it without much issue, once past that, he avoided the onlookers and walked straight on towards Steve. He was about three trailers away, when Steve looked out and seemed to realize who it was making such a grand entrance.

Bucky heard a familiar voice calling out _’holy shit’_ and couldn’t hold himself back a moment longer. He ran, all fears forgotten in favor of seeing… _touching_ Steve again. Steve was at the edge of the grass surrounding his site when Bucky got to him, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and picking him up in a rush. “ _Steve,_ ” he breathed out. “Fuck, I missed you.”

When Steve’s feet were back on the ground, he looked up at Bucky like he was insane. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“You broadcast your location on your blog, Steve.”

Steve’s jaw dropped at that, and he continued staring at Bucky, but it took him awhile to finally speak again. “You’ve seen my blog?”

Bucky raised his hand, laying his palm against Steve’s cheek and rubbing his thumb gently against razor smooth skin. “Yes. I want you to know… Becs and I have been just as torn up about everything as you have been. We love you, Steve.”

“So you’re here? I can’t believe this, Buck. How even… it feels so unreal.”

He laughed, because he’d just rode in a helicopter to get there… the whole thing was fucking surreal. “Can we go inside?” He glanced back over his shoulder, and as he had guessed, a few people from around the park were still watching them closely. “I’d rather talk without an audience.”

So they went inside Peggy and Bucky took a seat on the couch, watching with an amused grin as Steve fumbled around and got them drinks. He didn’t have the heart to tell the man that he wasn’t exactly thirsty — it seemed like Steve just needed a few moments of silence to digest everything that was happening. Finally, Steve handed him a glass of iced tea and sat down in his computer chair, turning it around to face Bucky as he sipped nervously at his drink. 

Bucky took a quick sip, before setting his glass on the counter next to him. Then, hands free, he slid to the edge of the sofa and reached across the space to grasp Steve’s hand. “I’m going to explain from the beginning, okay, sweetheart?” Steve nodded, inching his chair a little closer to Bucky. “When you left, Becs was all torn up, so I searched for your blog — you mentioned it enough, but I hadn’t really looked into it before — we read your posts, almost all the way back to the beginning of the thing, and eventually Becca looked at me and told me she loved you. She said there was something about the way it felt like home, when you were around, that made her happy. It made her feel like she was just like the kids in her school with two parents. She slept in my bed that night because we couldn’t stop crying over the whole mess.”

“Oh Becca,” Steve whispered.

Bucky squeezed his hand. “So we made a plan. She had two weeks left of school, and I wanted her to finish out the year, at least. So I gave us a six week countdown. Six weeks to get rid of everything we owned that we didn’t really need… six weeks to sell the house, sell the van, quit my job… and say goodbye to Burns.”

“Bucky—”

“I called in a favor with Stark. The fucker acted like he already knew what we were planning, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he did. I said we were going to need a trailer… something with enough space for three people, and a truck to haul it. We were also going to need a way to get our stuff to Austin, because I couldn’t imagine waiting to find out where you were going next.”

“You bought a trailer?”

Bucky nodded. “Well, I mean… Stark bought the trailer. I had some improvements made to the floor plan, but I’m hoping you’ll want to put your own special touch on it.” He glanced around at Peggy. “It’s… a bit newer than what you’re used to. But Tony offered to store Peggy and Wheezy at his lake house here in Austin, in case you ever need them.”

Steve set his glass down on his desk, and then ran his free hand over his face. “This is a lot.”

“I know it is. It’s… a little bit crazy. It feels like we barely know each other, but at the same time, I feel like I’ve known you my entire life. If this is too much, Steve, I get it. Becs and I can set out on our own and we can keep in touch or something… whatever you need.”

There was a brief moment of silence, as Steve seemed to take in the trailer around him and really think about what was happening. Then, in a flash, he was up out of his seat and crossing the space between them, straddling Bucky’s lap and squeezing him close in a tight hug. “I love you,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s neck.

Bucky dug his hands into Steve’s shirt and kissed along his jawline. “I know, sweetheart, I know. I love you too.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Bucky had Steve spread out on the mattress in the front of the trailer. He had — amazingly — managed to get undressed without spraining or cramping anything. Hopefully the trailer that Stark had for them wasn’t so tiny. He looked down over Steve’s prone form and grinned. He couldn’t exactly explain his fascination with Steve’s petite features, but he was definitely prepared to spend the rest of his life worshipping that pale skin and those bony shoulders…

“Bucky. Buck. You’re killing me here.”

“Shh, I’m busy.” When Steve’s only reply was a moan, he continued kissing and sucking along each new patch of skin that he found. 

Unfortunately, he was distracted enough to forget the fact that Steve Rogers was no wimp, and had in fact spent a lot of time training in martial arts for self defense reasons. So one moment Bucky was kissing along Steve’s collarbone, and the next Steve’s legs were wrapping securely around his waist and flipping them over. When Steve sat triumphantly on top of Bucky, he smirked, leaning forward to grab the lube from where it had been dropped when they first got to bed. 

He waved the bottle in front of Bucky’s face. “You gonna get with the program on this, or should I open myself up?”

Bucky growled, hands curling around Steve’s hips. “Do it,” he managed, voice rough with desire, “I want to watch.”

Steve’s gaze seemed to darken at that, and he happily obliged, coating a few fingers in lube, and using his free hand to hold himself steady against Bucky’s shoulder while he began opening himself up.

Watching his face was probably one of the hottest things Bucky had ever experienced. Steve obviously had enough experience with the task that he was able to both quickly and efficiently complete it — while still looking hot as fuck. 

Bucky was going to lose his shit if he didn’t get inside _something_ soon. He threw a free hand out to grab the condom that Steve had thrown on the bed earlier, and blindly opened the wrapper and slid the thing onto his dick. “Ride me,” he growled. “Go on. Fuck me, Stevie.”

Steve added more lube to Bucky’s cock, before holding the base of it while he guided it towards his stretched hole. While he did, Bucky made sure to keep a steady grip on Steve, to make sure he wouldn’t lose his balance.

The first feeling of tight heat surrounding him was almost _too much_ and Bucky dropped his head back with a low groan. “Fuck, Steve.” He let the other man have complete control of the movements, giving his body time to adjust, and then holding onto his sharp hips as he began rocking up and down.

“I’m not going to last long, sweetheart,” he said after just a few minutes. Steve, he could tell, was a mess of sensations and feelings — he was mostly silent, ‘cept for the moaning, and when Bucky wrapped his flesh hand around Steve’s dick, Steve threw his head back and gasped out something that sounded like ‘yes’ and ‘right there.’ 

He waited patiently until Steve had found his release, and then gave into the feelings of tight heat getting even tighter around his dick… coming deep inside Steve with a grunt. 

“Fuck. So fucking good.”

* * *

Later, after another round where Bucky let Steve use those talented artist fingers on his own ass, before the smaller man fucked him, they pulled on underwear and ate ham and cheese sandwiches on the couch while watching netflix and discussing their future travel plans. Bucky made a quick call to Tony to check on Becs, and he and Steve talked to the girl for a few minutes before saying goodnight and promising to come visit her the next day.

When it was dark, and they finally went to bed for something other than sex, Bucky pulled Steve against him and kissed the top of those shaggy blonde tresses, before he glanced up at the ceiling. 

Like before, when he had laid there, his eyes began to travel along the lines of Steve’s glow-in-the-dark map. When he looked towards the west coast, though, his eyes tracked over Oregon and he noticed a new addition to the drawing.

There, over the spot in Eastern Oregon where Burns was located, was a perfectly painted heart that glowed bright. He bit his lip to keep his emotions in check, and heard a soft snore from Steve as he placed one more kiss on his head. Happy with the knowledge that they would both be living the ‘dream’ very soon… seeing the world together.

“Love you,” he whispered in the dark. “My wanderin’ man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, for anyone interested in some images of Peggy and the layout (pre-changes) of the new rv, you can [click here.](http://archofimagine.tumblr.com/post/179061228271/this-worn-out-map-add-ons)


	7. Chapter 7

> **Wild Child**   
>  _Saturday, June 8th, 2019_
> 
> As you can see from the pictures, our little wild child Becca has really embraced her new look. While we were finishing up the last month of schoolwork, here on the road, she met up with another family of kids her age and suddenly was begging Bucky and I to cut her hair short like those girls. Bucky cried — don’t let him lie to you and say he didn’t.
> 
> Everytime I look at Becs I think about how much my life has changed, especially now… coming up on the one year anniversary of my two B’s joining me on the road. We’ve had so many adventures in the last twelve months. Did you know it’s really hard to fight while sharing a three hundred square foot living space with a six year old? Especially a six year old as smart as Becs. Everytime Bucky and I get aggravated over something stupid the other has done, she calls us out on our BS and tells us to make up or else.
> 
> But the fighting is few and far between, and we have settled into a life that I know we all love. And this week, we put Dum Dum into storage and fly out with Becca’s uncle to go on a real life African adventure… the kid is so ecstatic she can barely sleep at night. There have also been talks of going to Europe sometime this summer. What even is my life?
> 
> All of that is to say… if you don’t hear from me for a while, I’m off living the dream!
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Steve (and Bucky and Becs)

* * *

“I can’t believe he’s falling for this trick again.”

Steve glanced to the other side of the plane, where Bucky had pointed, and frowned at the sight of Tony dealing cards between himself and Becca. He turned back to Bucky and asked, “What do you mean?”

Bucky snorted. “The kid is a math genius, a card counter, and a swindler. Last time they played, she took him for fifty grand.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“No wonder she had such an easy time going through her math textbook this year.”

“Pretty sure she played you on that one too. She was nervous about social studies, so she didn’t warn you about needing to be challenged in math.”

“That kid is Bucky Barnes up one side and down the other…”

“Hey, now!”

From across the plane, Tony called out, “Hundred dollar buy in. Happy, you playing?”

Steve and Bucky could do nothing more than laugh, as Tony’s personal security guard moved over to play, and Becca slid closer to her seat. Maybe Tony had learned his lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! And a super duper thank you to the mods at the CapBB and my artist Ero-Haru!

**Author's Note:**

> Like my stuff? [Follow me on tumblr!](https://archofimagine.tumblr.com/)


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